Call Me
by Antigone2
Summary: Manga based, one-shot I wrote to cheer up a friend. For all you sappy people all there.


A.N: I wrote this a while ago. It's manga based. MK and Jay-chan like it... I'm still deciding...  
Dedicated to: MK, who I wrote this for, and Usagi, who inspired me. ;)  
  
Disclaimer: Happy Birthday Usagi-chan! Um… I don't own you. But I own this story. :P  
  
Call to You   
By Antigone  
  
Ever notice how, when you want something (for example, the phone   
to ring) that's just when it doesn't happen? Or it does and then you   
regret it forever. I think my life works like this. Heck, how many   
times did I just pray and pray to turn out to be a superhero like   
Sailor V?  
  
Usagi no baka.   
  
My life.   
  
I laugh a little, nervously, high-pitched. I hope I don't regret   
this.  
  
My hands are shaking so much I can't even bite my nails. I   
really hate this, being nervous for something like this. Sure, I've   
been very frightened before, and stressed. But this strange sort of   
jumping in my stomach which reminds me of joy so strong it resembles   
dread, is something pretty new. A lot of new feelings have invaded my   
poor soul, lately, my life is changing in such radical ways, and I'm   
still stumbling along, trying to catch up.   
  
The phone just sits there. My family is out for the day, Luna is   
doing some "research" and by her tone of voice I think she wants me to   
help.  
  
A neighbor's dog barks and I jump out of my chair and land on the   
floor, hyperventilating. I doubt I would have been any help to Luna in   
this state.  
  
Our kitchen phone is really starting me make me angry. Snarling,   
I pick it up and shake it, "Ring!" I command, my eyes are probably   
scarily blood-shot but I don't care.  
  
I pace around the kitchen, half wondering what sort of food we   
had and half wondering why the hell I did what I just did about an hour   
ago.  
  
~  
  
He gave me his phone number.  
He gave me his phone number for *emergencies.*  
He gave me his phone number so I could contact him before a   
battle, or with information about the enemy or the princess.  
  
Not so I could obsess over it, folding and re-folding the paper.   
Not so I could run my fingers over the creases he made when he slipped   
it into my hand. Not so I could trace my pinkie over the crooked '3',   
or the way he crossed his '7' with a line.   
  
I think I love this man.  
  
That is sooooo not good.   
The paper gets lifted to my lips.  
  
As Sailormoon, he told me, I may need his help before danger   
strikes. Or I may just need to contact him for reasons involving the   
mission.   
  
You know I always used to picture getting the phone number of a   
handsome guy in entirely different circumstances?  
  
~~  
  
It was after my parents left with Shingo for the day that the   
beige household appliance on our wall became the center of my universe.   
The buttons call to me, the cord begs to be wound around my fingers.  
  
'Call him...' The paper burns in my hand.  
  
"What will I say?" I murmur to the cold plastic telephone,   
touching the pads of my fingers to the handle carefully. "That I just   
wanted to hear his voice? That I needed someone to listen and   
understand me… and for some reason I kept thinking of him?"  
  
He called me Usako. Took me in when I passed out in the cold   
city streets. Protected me, danced with me... and I'm pretty sure he   
even kissed me... once...  
  
It could have been a dream.  
  
He confided in me, told me the truth, that he really was Tuxedo   
Kamen, and he knew I was Sailormoon.  
  
Twisting my hands together, my eyes drift ahead, not seeing,   
remembering how my heart jumped when he leaned one warm hand on my   
shoulder... stood so close to me...  
  
Yikes, I'm dialing... one number after another, the tones   
resounding in my ear as I press the receiver closer, my knuckles   
turning white. The metallic jingles in my ear inform me that a   
telephone is ringing throughout his apartment downtown. A chill races   
down my back and I glare at the wall. Another ring... another....   
  
I got his answering machine.  
  
  
Rejection.  
  
  
Or it seemed that way.  
  
Let down, I leaned against the wall and let his warm voice inform   
the caller that he wasn't home. Or busy.   
  
'Or screening... because he realized he gave his home number to a   
silly little schoolgirl and he's hoping she doesn't use it to *bother*   
him—'  
  
I want to hang up, I'll do it, I'll slam down the...  
*beeeep*  
  
I don't know what I am saying until I hear my voice echo in my   
ear. "M—moshi moshi, Tsukino desu. G—gomen, I didn't mean to—that is—  
there's really no emergency I'm just..." My voice cracked. All of a   
sudden everything surged up in me and I realized: I'm scared. God help   
me I am so, so scared. I'm frightened that I won't live up to my   
responsibility as Sailormoon. I'm terrified of my dreams, my dark   
memories hidden away that seem to come to surface when I least expect   
it. I'm afraid of being alone. I'm scared to die.  
  
I'm scared to live without you, Mamo-chan. Please...   
  
"...I'm just... I need... please call me."  
  
I give out my phone number, twisting the cord so tightly in my   
hands my fingers turn cold. I feel cold all over.   
  
"Call me... Mamo-chan, onegai."  
  
I don't want to hang up.  
  
But I do.   
Before I spill my entire soul onto an unfeeling cassette tape.  
~~  
  
And the phone hasn't ringed since. Slow morning. Weekend.   
  
Where is he? I stare at my hands, why are they damp? I'm   
crying, I think.   
  
Turning back to look at the phone, that I want to shake it, or   
rip it from the wall. I wonder if I should try calling again?  
  
I was wrong. He probably heard the message and deleted it   
without a second thought. After all, I had said there was no crisis,   
right? What does he care about me being scared, alone... what does he   
care...  
  
Care...  
  
"Please ring." I whisper, burying my head in my hands.   
"Please."  
  
Of course it doesn't. Another minute ticks by.  
  
~~  
  
It was a little later another noise snaps me out of my reverie.   
It wasn't the phone ringing, unfortunately. I guess my family came   
home a little early, I don't want them to see me like this. Quickly, I   
prepare to run upstairs the second I open the door for them because I   
don't want to answer any questions.  
  
Call me slow, but it didn't occur to me to after I was pulling   
the door open, 'Wait a minute, why would my parents ring the doorbell?'  
  
Because it wasn't my parents. It was Mamoru, feathered black   
hair falling in his face, blue eyes looking at me with concern.  
Taking a quick step back, I cover my mouth with my hands.  
  
I want to cover my face, too. I didn't expect him to see me like   
this, face flushed and eyes puffy, pale and shaking with fear.  
  
But I also didn't expect he would take me into his arms.  
~~  
  
I think it surprises him that I look so miserable, and he quickly   
takes two steps forward and catches me as if he was afraid I would   
fall.   
  
I let him pull me close, he is warm even though the spring air   
outside is cool, and the scent that clings to him reminds me of his   
apartment and the other few, blurred times that I huddled in his arms.  
  
Funny, it seems it happened more times than I can remember just   
now.  
  
"Usako, daijobu?" He asked. His voice is gentle but there is an   
edge in it that I can't place... dizzily I wonder what could make his   
usually calm tones so ragged at the edges.   
  
"H—hai," I whisper into his jacket. My arms are crossed around   
me, I'm pulling into myself and he loosens his hold on me.  
  
"I got your message," he starts.  
  
"Sorry," I murmur, looking at the ground, "I didn't mean to   
bother you... it's just... sometimes..." I stop when I feel heat brush   
against my cheeks.  
  
His fingertips are warm on my face as he brushes away my tears,   
he leans down so we are face to face. I notice his breath is quick and   
almost imperceptibly uneven, I wonder why, it couldn't have been such a   
long walk here...  
  
Which reminds me, "How did you know where I lived?" I ask,   
realizing also that we were still on my front steps. I hope the   
neighbors don't talk to Papa.  
  
"It's called a phonebook, Odango atama, pretty popular   
invention."  
  
"But all I gave you was my number..."  
  
"Which I could match to the correct 'Tsukino' in the Tokyo white   
pages. It really wasn't that hard," he voice is breathy now, lighter,   
and he winks at me with that teasing smirk I love to hate.  
  
I stick out my tongue at him in response.  
  
His eyes focus, and gain in an intensity I couldn't place.  
I really wish my heart wasn't beating loud enough for the deaf   
old lady down the street to hear.   
  
"I can't let you in the house," I admit, "no one's home and...   
Papa's strict..." I trail off.  
I hate being fair-skinned, because I know I am blushing horribly.   
  
He sits down on the steps, and I follow suit, tripping a little   
so Mamoru grabs my hand before I fall.  
  
"It's ok, we can stay out here. Are you cold?"  
  
I'm not but I can't think of any other way to explain my   
shivering.   
  
"Won't you be cold, though?" I argue as he removes his   
suede bomber. I guess he didn't hear me, because the next thing I know   
he is slowly slipping the jacket over my shoulders, letting his hands   
run down the side, adjusting it so it fits me better. His head is bent   
for a moment almost to mine, his eyes seem glassy for just a second,   
and his breath is almost too warm as it brushes against my neck.  
  
Once the jacket is on, though, he returns to his side of the   
steps.  
  
"Thanks." I say, and smile.   
  
He nods, seems a little shaken by something.  
  
"Are you ok now?" he asks me, I know he is asking about my phone   
call.   
  
I look at my hands. "I get...scared... sometimes. I try to be   
strong, I really do," oh, no, don't let me cry, please god, "but   
sometimes I just think of what is out there," my voice is cracking,   
"memories I have that don't seem real, god help me I'm afraid of my own   
dreams,"  
  
I'm crying. Sobbing openly into my hands, my tears are hot and my   
hands are cold.  
  
His hand is on my shoulder again, like before in the apartment   
and, like before, every nerve in body jumps and responds. "I   
understand." He says simply.  
  
I look up at him, my eyes looking into his, and for a second I   
can *see* him, his soul, his feelings and everything he shut off to the   
rest of the world.  
  
"Can I... may I... cry, please..."   
  
His only answer is to pull me closer, I let myself fall limp, my   
head on his shoulder. And I cry. Weep into his arms for everything   
I've lost, everything he's lost, every pain any innocent person I   
defend has ever felt, every time I feel I have failed, every time he   
feels he could have been better, and for the story he told me of the   
loneliness he felt.   
  
I cry for both of us, because he never did. I cry for everyone   
who doesn't know how close to death they come every day.  
  
And Mamoru holds me. His fingers brush back damp strands of my   
hair, wipe tears from my eyes, and every so often pull his jacket   
tighter around me. He rubs my back, pulls me closer, rocks me back and   
forth.   
  
After a while my sobs fade to sniffles and I just sit there   
quietly, hiccuping and every so often gasping for air like a child.  
  
When did he get so close to me...? My tears have soaked through   
the thin fabric of his shirt.   
  
"Are you ok now?" he whispers, I can feel his heartbeat, and for   
some reason... it is suddenly beating very quickly in my ear.  
  
I nod, "My parents will be home soon," my voice is strained,   
watery. "I think you should go."  
  
He nods but makes no move to stand up. "Are you going to be ok?"  
  
Nodding again, I even offer him a shaky smile. "Yeah, I think   
that was just what I needed."  
  
To cry, and to have someone to stay with me. I don't explain   
because he understands.   
  
He still holds my hand when he stands up, looks down at me and   
tells me I can return the jacket to him tomorrow.  
  
"Thank you," I say. He knows I don't just mean the jacket.  
  
He lets his hand slide from mine as he walks down the steps, and   
toward home.   
  
"Mamo-chan?" I call out, nervously.  
  
"Hai?" He turns, titles his head at me.  
  
"Do you think, if I ever need someone to... could you.. I mean,   
would you mind.. I..."  
  
A smile I've never seen him give to anybody else settles across   
his features.   
  
"Why do you think I gave you my number, Usako?"  
~~  
  
  
  
  
post-author's notes: this is more than or almost a year old. ^^ I'm just posting it with a bunch of stuff on FF.net now. Hope you enjoyed and... reveiw PLEASE!! ^^ 


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